


Baby Daddy

by ilokheimsins



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Established Hartwin, M/M, Roxy has no idea what to do around children, There is a child, harry is a dork, no one is surprised by this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy finds a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> Wooooo, children fic!

“Are you takin’ the fuckin’ piss?” Eggsy says as the enemy numbers pop up on his glasses.

“No,” Merlin says, “I am not, Elyan.”

“And I need to take ‘em all out, yeah?”

Merlin hums in affirmation.

“I’m fucked, ain’t I?”

“For god’s sake, Eggsy, just get moving, I only have thirty seconds before this knockout grenade goes off,” Roxy says, exasperation in her voice.

“Then toss it first and I’ll go in after some of ‘em have gone to sleep,” He argues back.

“There aren’t that many of them,” Merlin interrupts.

“You are takin’ the fuckin’ piss.  You seein’ the numbers I’m seein’?  There’s more’n a hundred of ‘em.”

A silence rings through the comms that is followed by rapid shuffling of paper and the dull tapping of Merlin typing.

“Fuck,” He swears, “Lancelot, toss that grenade now.  Elyan, go in as soon as it hits.  If they’ve upped security, they’re protecting something.  You still need to complete your original objective but your new objective is to retrieve whatever it is they’re protecting.”

“Can’t ye just work some magic and find out what it is?”

“Hacking is not magic, Egg—Elyan.”

“Seems like it to me.”

“…Lancelot’s grenade just hit ground, so I suggest you get a move on before your window shrinks.”

“It is like magic though, innit.”

“Elyan, focus,” Merlin says.  Eggsy can clearly picture him pinching the bridge of his nose and he laughs.

“Yessir!”

“You’re going to be out of range as soon as you enter the courtyard, so be careful and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Got it.”

“Ah, and Elyan—”

Eggsy ignores the comm as it goes dead.  He drops down the other side of the wall that circles the massive courtyard, white gas scattering low on the ground as he lands.  According to his glasses, there’s nearly forty guards out in the courtyard alone, all laid low by Roxy’s knockout gas.

“Jus’ seventy more to go,” He says and charges at the mansion.

***

The first floor is disturbingly empty.  Eggsy creeps slowly along it, keeping a sharp eye on it for lasers and trip wires.  When he was little, he’d always thought there’d be more of that sort of thing when one was a spy.  The reality is disappointingly (or not, depending on one’s view) different and Eggsy makes it to the vent with no issues at all.

He tucks his gun into the waistband of his trousers, checking the safety first (one experience with shooting a hole through the seat of his jeans is enough, thanks), and then he gets to work unscrewing the panel.  Eggsy unscrews each one with a small screwdriver until it’s just about to pop out before undoing it the rest of the way with his hands.  The screws get dropped into a nearby plant pot and then Eggsy is uncapping the glue from Merlin.  He lines the edges of the panel with it, smirking as he thinks of what Merlin’s commentary on his wobbly lines would be like.

Eggsy stops when he runs out of glue, mostly because he isn’t sure how much he actually needs and he figures that, hey, more is better right?

The hardest part of the whole ordeal is trying to heave himself into the vent while holding the cover.  He eventually resorts to looping his belt through the grilles and pulling it up after he’s squashed himself into vent.  There might be a few unfortunate glue stains on the pristine walls now, but it’s not like Eggsy’s going to be here long enough to care.

He follows the vent up; looking through each vent cover he passes just to see if there are people.  Each one he looks through shows him the same emptiness as the first floor.  It isn’t until he’s reached the third floor, sweating from the exertion of the nearly vertical climb, that he begins to hear voices.  They sound celebratory and it’s incredibly confusing.

From their intelligence, this mansion is supposed to be the main estate of a drug kingpin and security is supposed to incredibly tight.  Not to mention, there wasn’t anything about a party happening today.  Eggsy huffs his way over the edge to the horizontal bit of the vent that he knows from maps runs through the ceiling of the third floor.  Then he wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks even though he knows he’ll get flack about that from Harry later.

He crawls until he’s positioned above a vent with a relatively good view of the area.  The third floor itself is a wide open space, not unlike a ballroom, and it’s filled with people mingling.  People who are definitely not security.  The women are dressed in neat, knee length dresses and the men in light, spring suits.

“If you hadn’t run off before I could finish, I was going to tell you that I could come back on once you reached this floor.”

Merlin’s voice is dry and slightly annoyed.  Eggsy can just imagine him sitting there with a superior eyebrow raised at Eggsy’s antics.  As it is, Eggsy nearly jumps out of his skin and narrowly avoids hitting his head on the top of the vent.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “Warn me next time, yeah?”

“If you recall, I tried to, but you insisted on dashing off.”

Eggsy ignores that, “You seein’ this?  Wha’s goin’ on?”

“A party.”

“Yeah, fanks, couldn’ve figured that one out, now could I,” Eggsy says sarcastically.

“I’m running a facial match, press your glasses against an opening,” Merlin instructs.

Eggsy does as he’s told, pressing his face against the grilles to try and see through them better.

“Elyan,” Merlin says some moments later, “You need to take out everyone in this room.”

“You fuckin’ with me?”

“The room below you is full of Marco Ramione’s heads of the different operations he’s running,” Merlin sounds positively gleeful, “wipe them all out and you’ll essentially have taken out the entire organization.”

“Great,” Eggsy says perkily. “’Cept for the part where there’s like a billion of ‘em.”

“There’s only fifty three,” Merlin replies. “And you have two grenades in your shoe.”

“Merlin, I dunno if you’ve noticed or nothin’, but I’m in a vent tha’s barely big enough for me.  Ain’t no way I’m reachin’ my shoe.”

Merlin sighs in that way he does when he feels Eggsy is being deliberately dense.

“Drop out of the vent first.”

“Course, righ’ inta a pack of wolves I go.”

Merlin sighs again and Eggsy grins.

“Nah, I gotcha, find a vent tha’s on the outside of the room.”

“Oh good, I was beginning to wonder if your spectacular intellect was failing in the face of repeated knocks to the head.”

Eggsy chooses not to dignify that with an answer.

He crawls along the length of the vent until he reaches another cover that’s outside the ballroom area.  It takes him a moment to figure out how exactly to remove the cover without making a loud noise but eventually he carefully cuts just outside the cover on three sides.  Eggsy pushes on the edge closest to him and the metal on the far end bends with the slightest groan.

“Take the grenades out of your shoe before you go inside,” Merlin says.

“Yes, Merlin,” Eggsy says and drops out of the vent.  He lands softly on his toes.  There aren’t any guards in this area either and Eggsy’s beginning to suspect that they’re all laid out in the courtyard.  He pops the sole of both shoes off, each one revealing a golden lighter.  The soles of his shoes slide back on easily and Eggsy straightens his jacket before palming one lighter up each sleeve.  Then he saunters into the ballroom, confident as anything.

“Lovely party,” He remarks to one woman, flashing her a brilliant grin.  She furrows her brow at him, confusion creeping across her features, and then her eyes widen.  She reaches down to where Eggsy can see the edge of a holster, obviously intending to whip it out.  Eggsy puts a bullet through her head before her hand ever touches the band.

“Anna-Nicole Rodriguez, Argentinian branch,” Merlin remarks.

The gunshot draws the attention of every person present and Eggsy waves, flicking the lighter in his left hand.

“Cheers,” He grins and tosses the live grenade.  It explodes and takes out a heavy chunk of people near the buffet table.  The other grenade goes into the opposite side of the room, taking out another contingency by the windows.

“Twenty left,” Merlin says.

“Roger,” Eggsy says.

He dodges a shot and shoots a man through the head before spinning him around to use as a shield.  Once Eggsy gets into the groove of shooting someone and using their body as a shield, the rest of the fight is incredibly easy for a bunch of people supposedly running the world’s largest drug cartel.  It’s just somewhat tedious trying to cart a literal dead weight around with him.  Finally, there’s only Marco left.  The kingpin is standing next to a table with what looks to be a basket on it.

“I can pay you,” Marco begs.

Eggsy takes him out with a double tap to the heart.

“Good job, Elyan,” Merlin praises, “Now find the item they were all here for.”

Eggsy doesn’t see anything except the basket and he edges closer to it, gun at the ready just in case.  He peers over the edge and—

“Fuckin’ hell, tha’s a baby.”

***

The first thing to come out of Roxy’s mouth when Eggsy finds her is “Oh my god, that’s a baby.”

The second thing is “Eggsy, why is there a baby.”

The third is “I don’t like babies.”

“Geez, Rox, I ain’t askin’ ya to become her mum or nofin’, relax.”

“You have a baby,” She says slowly, looking at Eggsy like he’s being slow deliberately, “You went into a mansion and killed almost sixty people and came out with a baby.”

“Yup,” Eggsy says proudly, “And she’s a gorgeous thing, ain’t ya.”

The baby gurgles happily as Eggsy pokes her belly and coos at her.

“It seems that Elyan has a not entirely surprising knack with children,” Merlin says.  Roxy supposes the statement’s supposed to shed light on the entire situation, but it really, really doesn’t.

“Why is there a baby, Merlin?” Roxy asks.

“I’m not quite sure,” Merlin says, “It seems the mark gathered everyone for a baby shower or something of a similar nature.”

“Who’s a good girl,” Eggsy coos, “You are, yes you are.”

The baby spits up a bubble and Eggsy laughs.

“Wha’?” He says when he looks up and sees the look on Roxy’s face.

“No,” She says quickly, “Nothing, just.  It’s so small.”

She winces.

“It’s a baby,” Eggsy says. “They’s supposed to be small.”

“What if you drop it?”

“I ain’t gonna drop it.”

“But what about their heads?  I read somewhere their heads are too heavy for their necks and if you don’t hold them up properly they could die.”

“Rox, I know how to hold a baby.”

“But—”

“If you two are quite done, your extraction is down the mountain,” Merlin cuts in.

“Can you even carry a baby down a mountain?”

“Rox, it’s a baby, not a soap bubble.”

***

Roxy spends the entire ride back to London staring wide-eyed as Eggsy plays with the baby.

He covers his eyes and plays hide and seek, which makes the baby shriek in delight and wave her chubby hands around.  The train attendant stops by their cabin with a trolley of sweets and snacks and smiles fondly when she sees the baby.

“Your daughter?” She asks Roxy.

“Oh, no, I, she,” She stutters.

“She’s mine,” Eggsy says with a brilliant smile, “Rox is her auntie, yes she is.”

He nuzzles into the baby’s tummy and she burbles happily.  The attendant stands there for a few more seconds watching Eggsy play with the baby before she coughs and turns back to her trolley.

“Anything to eat?”

“I’ll have two sandwiches, please, any kind,” Roxy says.

“I’ll take a sandwich, too, yeah?”

The attendant hands them their sandwiches, which cost them all the change they have in their pockets, and she leaves, giving the baby one last smile.  Eggsy manages to put the baby down long enough to stuff his face.  As soon as he’s wiped the sauce on his hands off on the napkins, he’s got her back in his arms, propping up her head and bouncing her on his knee.

“’Ey, Rox?”

“Mm?” She hums around her sandwich.

“Why you don’t like babies?”

She swallows and stares at the baby giggling in Eggsy’s lap.

“They’re…small,” She says eventually, “And they cry.  And I’m afraid I’m going to drop them.  And I’m just generally not very used to them.”

“I just don’t like babies,” She concludes and goes back to her sandwich.

Eggsy shrugs and goes back to cooing at the baby, “Tha’s alright, ain’t it princess.  It’s jus’ you and me then and we’re gonna take the world by storm.”

***

“Eggsy, you can’t keep the baby,” Merlin says, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly.

“But we’re attached now,” Eggsy whines, “It’d be cruel to separate us.  I need her and she needs me, we’re meant ta be, don’t you see?”

The baby gurgles from her perch against Eggsy’s chest and her eyes flicker over to every slightest bit of motion.  The rest of the handler branch is watching the scene unfold with bated breath.  No one’s ever brought a baby back with them from a mission and this is much more interesting than watching the shitty coffee machine try and spit out another cup of sludge.

“Eggsy—”

“Don’ listen to ‘im, princess,” Eggsy declares, “He’s jus’ jealous he don’t get one of you, too.”

“Eggsy, even if I were jealous, you’d still have to talk this over with Harry,” Merlin sighs, “And then there’s the matter of where she came from.”

“It ain’t like we both don’ know you already gettin’ tha’ second part figured out,” Eggsy says, “And as for Harry, it’ll be like a surprise, yeah?”

“I’m not sure that’s the kind of surprise he wants,” Merlin says dubiously.

“Nah?  C’mon, lookit mah princess an’ tell me she ain’t the cutest thing.”

Eggsy practically shoves the baby in Merlin’s face.  Merlin backs up in his chair as fast as he can without making it seem like he’s running away.

“She’s…cute,” Merlin says eventually.  He looks like the statement pains him on a very deep emotional level and Eggsy grins.

“She’s gonna be a real looker,” Eggsy says and taps a finger against her nose.

She claps a hand around the finger, squeezing it.

“Oh my days, look at that grip,” Eggsy praises.  “You’s gonna grow up to be strong, jus’ like yer daddy, yes you are.  Maybe even become a Kingsman like daddy.  How’s ‘at?  Is my princess gonna be a super spy?”

“I give up,” Merlin says, “I’m deferring this matter to you, Arthur.”

The new Arthur is a fierce woman.  She towers over Eggsy by a good eight inches and she’s built on lines of muscle.  Her face is angular and her hair is pulled into a tight braid that lies tight against the crest of her skull.  She’s also regarding Eggsy with a look that he’s learned either means she’s really amused and about to grant his wish or she’s going to eat him with some Chianti and then use his bones to make soup.  Which means she’s going to say no in a very cruel, truthful, painful way.

“Assuming,” She begins, “The baby hasn’t been stolen from someone and is, as I suspect is the case, an orphan.”

She stops and continues to regard Eggsy with that look again.  Just long enough to make him squirm before she continues on.

“If Elyan can fill out the appropriate adoption papers, then I see no reason why he shouldn’t continue to care for the child.”

Eggsy whoops and the baby echoes the sentiment.

“C’mon princess, I’m gonna show you the shooting range!”

He leaves the handler branch, waxing poetic about different sorts of guns and lighter grenades.  Slowly, the handler branch resumes its normal speed of action, though everyone is still thrown by the baby and the fact that Arthur is actually letting Elyan keep the baby.

“Are you sure that was the best idea?” Merlin asks.  “You might end up with a sociopathic four year old hell bent on world domination in a few years.”

“I have faith in Elyan, he seems like the type to know what he’s doing with children.”

***

It takes Merlin twenty four hours to comb the records for some indication that somewhere there is a frantic parent looking for this specific child.  When nothing pings on the search, Merlin resigns himself to the fact that there will be a baby around headquarters in the near future.

“You can keep the baby,” He informs Eggsy through gritted teeth.

“Abigail.”

“Pardon?” Merlin asks, not sure he’s heard correctly.  Maybe this is some new slang thing that Eggsy picked up on his trip home yesterday.

“Her name’s Abigail, but ‘m gonna call her Abbie,” Eggsy says.  Abbie waves a tiny fist and then stuffs it in her mouth.

“...Right.”

Merlin sighs, the motion rolling through his entire torso, and says, “The adoption forms are there.  You’ll still have to go through the same process as normal.  CPS is the one area Kingsman hasn’t been able to develop an in with.”

Eggsy grabs the papers, propping Abbie on his other shoulder.

“Fill it out then turn ‘em in to you, yeah?”

“Yes, Eggsy.”

“Aces,” He salutes.

The handler branch is still a bit wary of the current events, as it has only been twenty four hours since the appearance of the baby, and they watch Eggsy as he makes his way to the exit, talking to the little girl.

“You gonna help daddy fill out his forms?  Oooh, maybe we can get ya to make somethin’ for when your other daddy gets back.  His name’s Harry and he’s a real gentleman, like in them old time films.  He’s probably gonna wanna be called papa or father jus’ like in them old time films too.  Whaddya think, princess?”

The door shuts behind him, but his stream of babble, though no longer coherent, is still audible.  Merlin is just stunned that Eggsy seems to be able to talk even more than he previously thought.

***

“Rox!”

Roxy spins around at the sound of Eggsy’s frantic shouting and nearly drops her tea when Eggsy comes flying through the door, Abbie giggling in his arms.

“They need to visit the house,” He says.

“What’s wrong with that?” Confusion permeates her and she dazedly waves hello to Abbie, who waves a chubby fist in return before sticking it back in her mouth.

“You never been to Harry’s house?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“He’s got Mr. Pickle stuffed in the loo.”

“Mr. Pickle?” Roxy asks.  The situation is getting more confusing the more Eggsy speaks and as much as she doesn’t like to admit her confusion, she just might so Eggsy will clarify what the hell is going on.

“His dog, Rox, from the interview?  His fuckin’ dog died of pancrea-somethin’ and he had the bleedin’ thing stuffed and _put it in his loo above the toilet_ ,” Eggsy says, though he’s dangerously near shrieking territory.

“A stuffed dog,” Roxy repeats.

“An’ butterflies,” Eggsy continues on, evidently satisfied with Roxy’s comprehension, “He’s got them all over his walls.  Who does tha’?”

He turns down to coo at Abbie, “Your papa does, yes he does, he’s odd like tha’.  But I suppose everyone’s gotta have somethin’ strange about ‘em.”

“Butterflies,” Roxy says.

“Yeah, I mean, who does tha’?  Who stuffs their fuckin’ dog and _then puts it in the loo_ and then hangs up a fuckin’ butterfly collection.”

“Uh,” Roxy says intelligently.

“You gotta help me, Rox,” Eggsy begs, “Them ladies from the CPS is brutal, y’know?  I had to speak all posh for ‘em to even consider lettin’ me keep my princess.  And now it’s all gonna go to shit cause Harry keeps a fuckin’ stuffed dog _in his loo!”_

“I’m still not seeing how I can help,” Roxy admits eventually.

“We’re gonna take them butterflies down,” Eggsy says firmly, “Temporarily a’course, just so them CPS ladies don’ think Abbie’s endin’ up with a pair of psychos for dads.”

“And what about,” Roxy steels herself (she may never be able to respect Harry again after this), “Mr. Pickle?”

“I don’ even know, Rox, I don’ even know.”

***

Saturday finds them standing in the middle of Harry’s generous first floor bathroom.  Roxy’s staring in shock at the extensive collection of butterflies that Harry has in his bathroom and very nearly shrieks when she comes face to face with Mr. Pickle upon opening the door.

“Jesus,” She says, clutching the strap of her worker’s suit.

“I tol’ ya, Rox, _stuffed in the loo_ ,” Eggsy hisses.

“I knew that,” She huffs.  “But you know how sometimes you know things and it’s not really real until you actually see it?  This is like that.”

Eggsy shrugs, “I guess.”

He hands her a box for the butterflies.

“There’s so many of them,” She whispers.

“I know,” Eggsy says sympathetically.  “I know.”

***

They’re halfway done with the bathroom when Roxy figures out what’s been bothering her all morning.

“Where’s Abbie?”

Eggsy hasn’t let the baby out of his sight in days and it seems odd that he’s just carrying on without a care in the world without her.

“Left her at me mum’s.  We wouldn’t be able to watch her if she were here,” He replies, carefully taking down another frame of large butterflies.

“How’s insects get this big anyway?” He marvels at the giant specimen smack dab in the center.

“Insects require less oxygen, so they can grow larger on a shorter supply,” Roxy says.

“I still dunno why he needs these by the fuckin’ toilet.”  Eggsy shakes his head and stacks the picture frame into his box.

They work their way through the rest of the bathroom relatively quickly, only needing another trip to hide the boxes in the basement.  Then comes the issue of Mr. Pickle.

“I don’t know,” Roxy says, staring at Mr. Pickle.  Her arms are crossed over her chest and her head is tilted ever so slightly.

“I think he’s nailed to the wall,” Eggsy observes.

“We can’t tear it out.”

“We could cover it?” Eggsy suggests.  “Get some kinda wrapping paper or somethin’ and make it look pretty.”

Roxy snaps her fingers and points at one of the empty boxes, “We’ll paint it up to make it look like a locked medicine cabinet and then just put it over the whole thing.”

“Rox, you’re the bloody guvnor, you really are.”

***

“Merlin?”

The man looks up from where he’s poking at a chip through a magnifying glass to see Galahad’s feed focusing in on what looks to be a cabinet.

“Yes?”

“This look like a cabinet to ye?  Like if Rox and I smack a lock on it, it’ll look like a right proper medical cabinet, yeah?”

“I suppose?”

“Right, thanks Merlin!”

The feed clicks off and Merlin shrugs, dismissing the incident in favor of going back to prodding the microchip.

***

Harry is in Bangladesh wading through a city that is far too humid for him to be wearing a damned suit when Merlin rings him up.

“I’m not sure you’re going to like the news I’m about to give you,” Merlin starts and Harry lets out a low anguished moan.

“Whatever it is that Eggsy has done now, I’m sure it isn’t quite as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Harry says and checks his magazine.

Four bullets. That should get him through the rest of this mission, provided he doesn’t miss.

“He’s put a box over Mr. Pickle,” Merlin says gravely.

Harry actually stops at that and he’s sure he’s making an odd sight for the locals, an older gentleman in a suit standing under the sun in the middle of a blisteringly hot day.  But his heat addled mind needs a moment to simply process that.

“I’m, ah, sure he has his reasons?”  Harry says tentatively, though he can’t figure out for the life of him what they might be.

“Oh yes, it’s quite a good one actually,” Merlin says.  His voice is gleeful through the comm and Harry does not want to hear whatever is about to come out of his oldest friend’s mouth.

“In fact—”

“Merlin, you fuckin’ wanker!”

“Eggsy?” Harry asks.  But he’s met with a loud crash and then Merlin swearing in a thick Scottish brogue that sounds a lot further away than a moment ago.

“Harry?  It’s a surprise,” Eggsy says breathily into the comm.  “Promise you’ll, bleedin’ fuckin’ hell Merlin, gimme a mo’ yeah?  Promise you’ll fuckin’ love it.  No, you fuckin’ can’t tell ‘im.  ‘S my surprise, if you ruin it I’ll make sure Roxy hides all yer favorite coffee fer a month!”

Harry chuckles at that and there’s a bit more static and shuffling before Merlin comes back online, muttering quite unfavorable judgments on Eggsy’s character.

“Never should have told the lad I liked that coffee,” He grouses.

“He threatens me about the tea in the pantry on occasion,” Harry says sympathetically.

“That’s different,” Merlin huffs.  “He’s your boy.  He’s allowed to do that.  Oh, maybe I’ll send him to Greenland.”

“You are not allowed to send Elyan to Greenland,” Arthur pipes up and Merlin swears loudly again.

“Why can’t Eggsy go to Greenland?” Harry asks.

He’s met with silence from both Arthur and Merlin and he frowns deeply.

“Merlin, why is Eggsy forbidden from Greenland?”

“All international work, really,” Arthur says with a sadistic sort of glee that is eerily similar to when Merlin when he informs the recruits one of them doesn’t have a parachute.

“Why is Eggsy banned from international work?”

“Ah, well, Galahad, it appears a new threat has occurred that I must deal with.  Very sorry, I’m sure you’ll be amenable to Amelia running the rest of your mission,” Merlin says, his voice going flat in the way it does when he’s not trying very hard to lie.

“Merlin, so help me, if you sign off, I will hide all your socks.”

“Merlin’s gone,” Amelia says and sometimes Harry wishes the comm lines didn’t convey emotions so very well, because Amelia sounds highly amused.

“I suppose you won’t tell me why Eggsy’s grounded for the moment either, will you?”

“Nope,” Amelia says, popping the last syllable. “Whole agency’s under a no-tell until you come home.  So if I were you, I would come home.”

Harry says something very unflattering about Kingsmen and their need for secrets that has Amelia belly laughing in his ear as she directs him through the town.

“Shoot clean and come home quick,” She says brightly just as mercenaries pour out of the shadows and Harry is successfully engaged in a fight.

He runs out of bullets and stabs his gun straight through another man’s neck before huffing , “No hints for what Eggsy has been up to?” into the comm.

Amelia’s glee at the whole situation is practically a tangible object with the way she cackles and very clearly says, “Nope, Galahad, no can do.”

“Buggering shit,” Harry says and slams someone into the concrete.

Amelia laughs again and then something new pops up on his glasses, a miniature map that will lead him out of this clusterfuck once he’s wiped out all the necessary people.

“Come home quick,” She sings out and damn it all if the secrecy doesn’t make Harry move that much quicker.  Because while he’s sure whatever Eggsy’s done can’t be that bad, the combined glee of Amelia and Arthur mixed with the resignation in Merlin’s voice isn’t helping the niggling voice that Eggsy’s really stuck his foot in it this time.

***

The lady from the CPS assigned to Eggsy’s case is a wizened old thing whose eyes look absolutely enormous behind her coke bottle glasses.  She scares the ever loving hell out of Eggsy because he still swears that she’s just waiting to eat his soul.  She does give Roxy a dismissive look when she first comes in and then she turns to Eggsy.  Her nametag proclaiming Marge is a little crooked and Eggsy tries not to stare at it as she addresses him.

“Who’s this?” She says.

“This is Roxanne Morton,” Eggsy says, posh accent in place.  “Abigail’s godmother.”

He flashes a cheeky grin that dies in the face of Marge’s unimpressed face.  Eggsy clears his throat and sweeps a hand down the hall, “Shall we?”

Marge scuttles down the hall without so much as a word, muttering under her breath and poking at everything with her orange pencil.  Roxy and Eggsy, clutching Abigail to his chest, hover nervously behind her, having barely managed to finish installing child proofing around anything that might be deemed dangerous five minutes before Marge’s arrival.

They trail her through the house, holding their breath while she peers curiously at their hastily painted cabinet over the toilet.  Roxy had the foresight to stick a lock onto it so Marge does little more than hum approvingly at the lock and scamper out of the bathroom to move upstairs.

Everything goes a bit easier after that, now that Marge has apparently deemed them somewhat responsible because they slapped a lock on their fake medicine cabinet.  Abigail gurgles at Marge and waves when the woman turns around to deliver her verdict on her house.  Marge looks absolutely thrilled and gives them a wizened old smile that borders on carnivorous and nearly gives Eggsy a heart attack when she cracks it.

“I suppose you’ve passed your inspection,” She says primly and marks off a satisfactory mark on her clipboard.

She hands them a sheaf of forms to sign and points out exactly where Eggsy needs to put his signature.  Roxy pens her own name down as Harry’s proxy until he’s come home to sign himself.  Marge shuffles the papers back into her briefcase and pats Abigail fondly on the cheek.

“Congratulations then, Mr. Unwin.  I hope you raise her well,” Marge says primly and toddles out the door without so much as a goodbye.

Eggsy shuts the door behind her, his smile plastered on his face until he turns around and sinks to the floor.  He tips his head back against the door and sighs in relief.

“Nailed it,” He clicks his fingers together and pokes Abigail’s cheek.

“Who’s daddy did good?” He cooes, “Yours did. Yeah, he did.”

Roxy settles herself onto the floor next to him and offers one of her fingers for Abigail to grab onto.

“Lookit that, you gettin’ better about the babies?”

“Just the one,” Roxy admits.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.  But if you tell Merlin I will hurt you.”

“Got it, no telling your boy that maybe you’s ok with some babies,” Eggsy makes a quick cross over his chest.

Roxy punches him in the shin.  Abigail giggles at Eggsy’s yelp  and clutches tighter onto Roxy’s finger.

“I suppose we should take the box off Mr. Pickle then,” Roxy says eventually.

“She’s gonna be the weirdest fucking kid, growin’ up with a stuffed dog and dead butterflies in the loo,” Eggsy shakes his head.

“I’m sure you can blame Harry when he comes back.”

“Weirdest fucking kid, I’m telling you now.”

“Mmhmm.”

“She is though.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Just you wait.”

“Of course.”

Eggsy sighs and looks down at Abigail.

“Try not to turn out too weird, babe.  Please, for your daddy.”

***

Out of everything Harry had been expecting when he touched down at HQ – and he’d had quite some time to concoct various scenarios – a giant banner proclaiming ‘Congratulations on the baby!’ certainly isn’t it.  His confusion is further compounded when Roxy bounds up, remarkably nimble in the heels she’s apparently chosen for the occasion, and sets off a confetti cracker in his face.

“Congrats!” She says brightly and hands him a flute of champagne before flitting away to what looks to be a buffet table.

Harry spits out a length of tiny ribbon and searches desperately for Eggsy.  His relief and happiness at finally locating him only lasts until he goes to hug Eggsy and ends up trying to juggle a cooing baby while keeping his champagne from spilling all over the child.  Eggsy’s hands come up to steady Harry and Harry drains the champagne neatly.  He sets the glass down and carefully takes the child from Eggsy, placing one hand under the head.

“She’s pretty, inn she?” Eggsy says proudly.

Several questions rattle through Harry’s skull and, in a move that has every agent present questioning Harry’s suavity, he asks, “Yours out of wedlock then?”

It comes out a lot poutier than Harry had intended, but he really can’t be blamed.  If the baby really is Eggsy’s, then, even at the very longest, creating a child would have required cheating on Harry.

To his credit, Eggsy just laughs and says, “Nah, Haz.  Killed her drug lord papa, didn’t I, sweetheart?”

He pokes the baby’s cheek and she squeals happily and grabs his finger.

“Pardon?”

“I killed her dad,” Eggsy says flippantly.  “Bruv was real bad and my sweetheart deserves better than that.”

“Were you going to ask me about her?”

Eggsy looks up at that and there’s something fiercely protective in his gaze.  He practically snatches the child back, all very polite and gentlemanly, but an indignant motion all the same.

“’S fine if you don’t want her, I can raise her all my own,” Eggsy mutters.

“No, Eggsy,” Harry soothes.  “I do want her.  I’ve wanted children for quite some time, but you understand that as a Kingsman, it’s a bit difficult to raise one.  And once you came along, I wasn’t sure if you would want one at so young an age.”

Eggsy looks like Harry’s done something that makes him want to ruffle Harry’s hair and call him adorable.

“Harry, I want everything if it’s with you,” He says and kisses Harry’s cheek.

“’Sides I already signed the forms so no take backs,” Eggsy continues on and Harry sighs, despair at Eggsy’s ever present impulsiveness tempered heavily by his affection for the boy.

“Well then,” Harry peers down at the child, who smiles and waves her fist at him, “what am I to be calling you then, young one?”

“Name’s Abigail,” Eggsy says, “and she’s gonna be a super spy when she grows up.”

“Perhaps we should allow Abigail to decide her future when she’s old enough to understand having one,” Harry puts his hand forth and Abigail latches onto his forefinger with more force than he was expecting.

“Wicked grip, innit,” Eggsy says cheerily.  “She’s gonna be a super spy just like her daddies.”

A warm feeling effuses Harry at the thought of raising Abigail with Eggsy.

“Now would be the time to tell Harry she isn’t yours.  He’s getting attached,” Merlin whispers and Harry elbows him for his troubles.

Merlin walks away mumbling unfavorable sentiments on Harry’s character and rubbing what’s sure to be a bruise come morning.

“She’s ours,” Eggsy says proudly.  “Merlin’s a wanker.”

“I heard that, Elyan!”

“Good, cause you is!”

“Abigail,” Harry says, partially directed at the girl and partially aimed at Eggsy.

Abigail squeals and claps her hands together and Eggsy looks like he’s glowing.

“Yeah, we gonna do good,” Eggsy says.

“I certainly do hope so,” Harry replies.

“She’s still gonna be a super spy,” Eggsy edges in.

Harry rolls his eyes fondly and kisses the slope of Eggsy’s cheek.

“We’ll see.”

***

_22 years later_

“Ha!  I fuckin’ told you she’d be a super spy!” Eggsy hollers as Abigail hauls herself over the last bit of the obstacle course.

Harry refrains from rolling his eyes through some miracle as he clocks down his daughter’s time.  She’s the fastest of the group by far.

“Whazzit then?” Eggsy peers over his shoulder to look at the watch.

“I’m still the fuckin’ fastest!” Eggsy whoops and turns to yell, “Can’t beat your old man, babe!”

Abigail, who – Harry has found – takes strongly after Eggsy in personality, rolls her eyes and yells back, “Let’s see your geriatric ass try!”

The other candidates for the Tristan position mill around awkwardly, shuffling about as they look on eagerly.  Eggsy cracks a grin and shuffles his jacket off.  He pulls off his tie and deposits both in Harry’s lap.

“Gonna time me then, Galahad?” Eggsy winks cheekily and Harry produces a soul-deep groan that has Eggsy laughing brightly.

“You really shouldn’t be competing with her.  She’s half your age,” Harry says.  But he resets the timer and waves Eggsy towards the course.

“Age ain’t but a number,” Eggsy calls back as he positions himself at the starting line.

The recruits all shuffle over to crowd around Harry as he calls the start.  Eggsy is off like a shot, shooting limberly through the course like he hasn’t been shot in the leg twice and had a miscellaneous number of injuries that should be aching fiercely.  He pops off the top of the last wall with a showy flip, landing neatly on his hands and springing off them into a perfect landing, feet together and hands in the air.

Harry clicks the button and Abigail swears, prompting a “language, dear” from Harry.

“Told ya,” Eggsy says as he trots back over.

Harry interrupts the brewing fight neatly, “Merlin has requested that you all head for the library for your next task.”

The group troops off, though Abigail does turn around to stick out her tongue at Eggsy before she jogs to catch up with her peers, her pigtails bouncing as she goes.

“We did good,” Eggsy says as he snuggles up to Harry.

“I suppose we did,” Harry allows.

“And she became a super spy,” Eggsy says smugly.

“She hasn’t actually become a super spy yet,” Harry says, jotting down Eggsy’s time at the bottom of the list.

“She’s almost a super spy,” Eggsy retorts.

“Almost is not the same as is,” Harry murmurs placidly.

“You really think the girl we raised ain’t gonna be a super spy?” Eggsy raises his eyebrows and Harry finally looks up from his clipboard.

“Of course she is,” Harry says, “but she has to actually get there on her own.”

“And when she makes it we gonna be as proud as they come.”

Harry leans in to kiss Eggsy, amazed and so very happy that somehow, after two decades, he still has this warm set of people to call a family.

He pulls back, just enough to whisper, “We will be as proud as they come.”

“Oh my god!  Stop making out on the lawn,” Abigail shouts with all the impunity afforded to her.

“Make me!” Eggsy shouts back.

“Galahad!  Elyan! Stop kissing on the lawn,” Merlin bellows from his position on the balcony.

Eggsy puts up a hand and flashes two fingers before kissing Harry fiercely.

“It is my sincerest wish that Abigail matures faster than you,” Harry says fondly as Eggsy pulls back.

“Nah, she’s mature enough, she grew up with you as her dad, didn’t she now,” Eggsy says.

“I’m not quite sure, not with you as her father,” Harry replies.

“Why, Harold, is that cheek I detect?” Eggsy fakes a scandalized tone as he clambers onto Harry’s lap.

“No more than yours, I’m sure,” Harry tucks his arms around Eggsy’s waist and pulls him close.

He guides Eggsy down into a deep kiss, one that’s slow and more of a firm glide of their lips than anything more carnal.  Harry pulls back only when Abigail howls, “You guys are so fucking embarrassing!”

“I think we did good,” Eggsy pants out with a cheeky smile as beautiful as the day Harry met him.

“Oh, yes,” Harry agrees.  “We did most excellently.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me @ ilokheimsins on tumblr.


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